


Whatever I Want It To Mean

by conceptofzero



Category: BioShock
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's gotten used to late night visitors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever I Want It To Mean

Jack’s gotten used to his bedroom door opening. Usually it’s one of the girls coming to ask Jack to check the room for splicers and bring them water and to tell them another bedtime story. Once in a rare moon though, he hears the door open and when he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, it’s Tenenbaum standing in his doorway. Sometimes she doesn’t come in - she just looks at him and then slips away like a ghost. 

Tonight, she stands there in her housecoat, her greying hair falling loose around her shoulders. She looks cold and tired, framed by the faint glow of the hall’s many nightlights. Tenenbaum looks unsure if she’s staying tonight or going back to her room.

So he lifts a hand and motions for her to come in. He’s not sure it’ll work. He’s never done this before. Jack always lets her choose. He could use her company tonight. He doesn’t feel lonely very often, but when he does, it’s like a physical weight on his shoulders. So he waves to her to come in and she just looks at him, a little surprised by the motion. 

Tenenbaum steps inside and shuts the door, letting the room go dark. She’s a quiet woman and he can barely hear her cross the floorboards. She slips out of her housecoat, setting it on the chair by the bed before she slips into Jack’s bed. Tenenbaum- Brigid is cold. She’s always so cold. Jack puts an arm around her and draws her in close to warm her up. 

There’s not much light in the room, and Jack’s forced to speak to her, his voice rough and hoarse. Signing is much easier but it needs to be seen. He doesn’t turn on the lamp. That’s a sure fire way to make her leave. “Tired?” 

“A little,” she admits, a note of reluctance underscoring every word she says. Brigid is an intensely private woman. She’s stiff and he feels her heart fluttering fast beneath his touch. Her hand shakes a little when she sets it on Jack’s chest, and she puts her mouth on his cheek in the dark. He gets the feeling that she doesn’t want to just sleep tonight. 

Jack turns his head and grazes her mouth with his. Her lips are chapped. Next time he’s in town, he’ll get her something for them. She’s always a little hesitant when they kiss and Jack likes that. It makes him feel a little less worried about how good he is. He has memories, but none of them are true. This though, this is real. 

She wears a flannel nightshirt that she never likes to take off. That’s fine - Jack usually doesn’t like to get naked either. There are so many children in this house and they rarely sleep through the night. At any moment, someone might cry out and then they’ll both go and find who it was, and it’s much easier when they don’t have to go hunting for clothes in the dark. They can make do easily enough, hiking up her nightshirt and pulling down his sweats. 

Not yet though. Jack wants to take his time, and he just holds Brigid against his chest, kissing her nice and slow. Her hair is grey and brown, and in the darkness, it looks silver and black. He cups her face and her hands touch his sides, blunt fingernails pressing against the bare skin of his chest. They say very little, but that’s expected. She has never mastered the art of speaking soft, kind things. His voice aches if he says much and Jack feels a little embarrassed that he still sometimes sounds more like some deep sea creature, especially when he’s sick. 

When she wants more from him, she tugs on his waistband, pushing his sweats down his hips and ass. Jack helps, moving and lifting his body as they slide the pants down to his thighs. Her hands grip him, and she’s less shy here, knowing exactly how to touch him. Jack makes a low sound in his throat, responding to her immediately. 

He sets a hand on her thigh, looking to her for permission to go higher. When she doesn’t push him away, he lets his fingers slip up the soft flesh, finding the place where her legs meet. His fingers dip inside and though she makes no sound, he hears her breathing speed up. Brigid is already a little wet. Jack finds her clit and makes sure she enjoys herself as much as he’s enjoying her hand on him. 

The first time they did this, he was so nervous. There’s a gap in his memories that he knows he’ll never get back, and there are fragments of the story they put in his mind when they sent Jack to the surface. All it was a lie, right down to the now-tattered memories of a girlfriend who had never been real. He hadn’t been sure if any of that memory would match up with reality and some of it had, but some of it hadn’t. Nothing had prepared him for the way it felt to have his cock in anything other than his hand. He’s less afraid now that he knows what to expect, and now that he knows what she likes. 

She pushes on his hip and they turn, sorting themselves out so Jack’s on his back and Brigid can straddle him. He helps her pull her nightshirt up, and in the dim light of the room, all he can see is a dark patch between her thighs that his cock knows well. It lazily twitches in anticipation and Jack just keeps rubbing his fingers on her, wanting to be sure she feels ready. 

“Enough,” Brigid says, and Jack turns his hand aside. She still breathes quickly as she wraps a hand around Jack’s cock and holds him straight. Brigid rises up and Jack’s hands hold her steady as she sinks down on him, being careful to take him slowly. The sound he makes is embarrassing, the soft whalesong that he has tried so very hard to unlearn. She does not say a word - she just keeps pressing down until he is buried deep within Brigid and all Jack can feel is the heat of her. 

There will never be a time when he is used to the way she feels when she moves on him. She is wet and he slips in and out of her as she rocks her hips. If he looks closely, when she lets him, he can see his cock inside of her. His breath catches as he moves in and out and he feels himself flush at the sight. It looks so good. 

She sets a hand on his chin to turn his gaze up somewhat. He keeps a steady hold on her and they make no sound in the dark. They pant softly and Jack bites back any sound that threatens to creep out of his mouth. Brigid keeps her face bowed and her body rises and falls against Jack, her thighs pressed tightly to his. 

The nightshirt stays on, but Jack slides a hand up her chest and cups a breast through the flannel. She is silent even as her body responds, tightening around him and pushing against his palm. He could kiss her if he thought she would let him. Brigid does not like kisses when he is inside of her, but she will let him touch her and hold her, and she will sometimes press her face against his chest when it becomes too much. 

Her hips rock back and forth, her cunt tight and wet in ways that make Jack want to curl his toes. Jack wishes words came easier to him, so he could try tell her how she feels right now. He loves her, loves her body, loves the way they move together. Tonight, he wants her to know, and he leans in, carefully nuzzling the side of her face, something sweet without being the kisses she can’t stand. Her breath catches in her chest and she looks at Jack, surprised but not repulsed. She carefully leans in and as she brings herself down further on Jack’s cock, she presses their cheeks together for a moment before pulling away. 

When her breathing gets heavy, he likes to turn them and lie her down on the bed. It is easy to turn her hips and to thrust in deep the way she likes. Her face gets redder as he moves inside of her, his hand moving down the length of her body. The first time they did this, Jack thought she would want to close her eyes and pretend it was another man with her. She keeps them open wide and her hair spills around her head, ink and silver in the dark of the room. Jack thrust deep and feels her pull tight around him, her breath straining as she begins to crest.

Brigid comes with the softest of sounds and he savours the way her voice hitches and the nnhh she can’t stop escapes. She clenches tight around him and her body tightens all over like a clock wound tight. Jack pants and his cock twitches hard as she seems to beg him to come with her. He keeps thrusting through it, feeling her pulse around him as the aftershocks carry her away. 

Her face is slack and beautiful and agonizingly young in the moonlight. As he thrusts into her, he desperately takes care not to push too hard or hurt her. He knows he’s strong and knows how easy it would be to break her by accident. Jack’s breath comes hard and quick and all he can feel is the way she squeezes him. His hands explore her body and he wishes they could have more time for this. They could turn on the lights and set aside a few hours for him to learn her body properly, to taste all of her and touch every last inch. But the children are so young still and he contents himself with these soft, stolen moments when they can find comfort in each other. 

“Jack,” she says in the dark, her voice softer than he has ever heard it. Her hands touch his face and she coaxes him close. Brigid lets him do what was until now impossible, and with his cock buried deep inside of her cunt, she presses their mouths together and kisses Jack kindly. It’s more than he can stand, and he chokes softly, hands pawing at the mattress to keep from squeezing her too tight as he comes. He is still inside of her and he is desperate and shaking, all thoughts shoved out of his mind by the white-hot pleasure he feels in this moment. Brigid kisses him and whispers his name again and he just sags against her, boneless and blissed. 

Jack carefully shakes himself out of his daze and pulls out of her, hiking his pants back up. Brigid pushes her nightshirt down and they lie together in bed, each catching their breath. He tucks himself behind her, playing the big spoon as usual, resting an arm over her waist but being sure not to make her feel trapped. 

He half expects this moment to be interrupted by one of the girls waking from a nightmare, but for once, he doesn’t hear a door creak open or the pitter-patter of little feet wandering down the hall searching for comfort. There’s only Brigid and when he presses his face against her hair, she smells like cigarettes and soap. 

Jack loves her. He’s never said the words out loud, worried he’ll scare her away. It’s a complicated feeling. He doesn’t just love her when they sleep together. He loves her for helping him raise the girls, and for trying to be a good person even though she’s done terrible things, and he loves that they can sit in comfortable silence and not feel compelled to fill it with chatter. She’s so important to him and he doesn’t know if she understands that. 

Brigid sets a hand over his, her slim fingers sliding between the gaps of his and curling against his palm. Jack supposes this means the same as all those thoughts he can’t put into proper words. She needs him, and he needs her. 

Jack’s content with that much. He presses his forehead against the back of her head, feeling her hair tickle his face before he pulls back a little and closes his eyes, trying to get a little sleep before they’re inevitable woken up.


End file.
